Prison guard stares mutilate the window sillsKind thoughts are not their willSearching a way into my heart gambler walls to eat the tender morale of my being

The great and powerful oz is deadLurching in his easy chair A clock a scroll a bowling pin falls hard against the brittle bones of an old man behind a shabby motel curtain wall

Wheels within wheels inside a velvet beer barrel over the images of niagara fallsI am tossed in with Exxon oil spillsA grand scheme perpetuated on behalf of luxury

You may feel a little decapitation but it’s all for the good of the landStand and be beaten down in gloved lovin care This isn’t Sparta it’s the vomit of the dollar bill

Thins the skin of the shins that bang against the Rim of the underbelly of American flim flamLeft to nothing good I roleplay a villain until I become oneOne day I will burn the world and ask no random ransome demand